To Glee, With Love
by Adatrix
Summary: A series of one-shots from the perspective of each Glee Club member as they reflect on Glee and how it's changed them. Based on the line they each say before "To Sir, With Love" in the finale. Features every member, pairings are canon.
1. Matt: Just Another Football Player

**AN: To Glee, With Love: A series of short one-shots from the point of view of each Glee Club member as they think about what they should say about how Glee has changed them. Obviously, based around the line they each say before they sing "To Sir, With Love" in Journey. So, spoilers for the finale!**

**I hope you enjoy these - and please review!**

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Matt crossed his room and pressed the play button on his iPod, cranking the volume way up to drown out the noise of his two older brothers yelling at the football game on TV.

The strumming at the beginning of Lulu's "To Sir, With Love" came over his speakers and Matt closed his eyes, humming along. He had been skeptical when Rachel first played the song for them, and her prattling hadn't helped. She gabbed on and on over the music about how they should come together and do one last thing for Mr. Schuester – considering all he'd done for Glee and for them – and how this song was perfect because it was from this super-old movie about a really awesome teacher who turned a bunch of hooligans and slutty girls into good students – not that _she_ was slutty or anything.

He could not have been more grateful when Puck interrupted her monologue with a well-put "Shut your pie-hole Berry, and let us listen to the damned song."

And when they had finally been given the peace and quiet to just absorb the lyrics of the song – they were unanimous – maybe the first time _ever_ they'd been unanimous in a decision. This was the perfect song, and the one they should sing for the last time as a Glee club.

It was a testament to just how united they were that Puck didn't even make fun of Finn or call him a girl's name when Finn suggested that they all say one thing about how Glee club, and Mr. Schue, changed them for the better, before they sang.

Oh, Matt remembered what life was like before Glee and just how much his life had changed after he joined. He was quiet, but popular enough because of football. Nobody at McKinley really messes with you if you're on the football team – even if you don't join in on some of the more…_rowdy_…activities. He had friends – his buddies on the football team, but especially Mike. They'd listen to music together. Sometimes he'd catch Mike tapping and moving his feet along to the beat and he'd do the same thing, but neither really made a big deal about it. It was fine to _listen_ to music, but not so cool to actually _move_ to it. Two dudes in a room dancing? That would be it for his rep if anyone ever found out, and Matt used to pray fervently that no one would – especially his brothers.

Matt had always grown up in the shadow of his two older brothers. They were a year apart in age, but Matt was 7 years younger than his eldest brother, Eric. Which gave them license to team up and rough him up or taunt him mercilessly. They were big, tough, dudes and good at sports. _Really good_. Both were in college on sports scholarships, and though their grades sucked, their colleges had no problem holding them back from graduating and giving them more free money – so long as they could keep carrying their teams to the finals every year. And though Matt had followed the family plan and become a football player, he was nowhere near as gifted in sports as his older brothers and they never let him forget it. He wasn't the quarterback, and he wasn't the star. He was Matt Rutherford, team player in the shadow of everyone else.

For the most part, Matt was OK with this. He wanted to be more than just a football player, stuck in Lima. He wanted to be _more_ than his brothers, who, though they were in college still came home every weekend to empty the fridge of its contents and have mom do their laundry. Though his parents expected no more from Matt except to be like a normal, red-blooded American male and good at football, Matt always wanted to be good at more. But until Coach Tanaka agreed to have Mr. Schue teach the football team to dance, Matt didn't know what else he was good at.

Turns out, he's not a half-bad dancer or a half-bad singer. True, he's no Rachel Berry or even Artie Abrams when it comes to singing. And true, he's no Mike Chang when it comes to dancing. But he's not half-bad, and though Matt is yet again, not a star and only a team player, he likes this team a whole lot more. It gives him more of a sense of community somehow, and definitely more of a sense of accomplishment. He never wanted to work harder at standing out in football, but he wants to work harder and practice more if it means he'll stand out more in Glee.

Matt doesn't even care that his parents don't really get it, and that his dad falls asleep during their performances. He doesn't even care when his brothers make fun of him and call him a pansy, a sissy, or worse. Matt just flips them the bird, and plugs his iPod in, listening to whatever they're singing for Glee on repeat until he knows every chord, every line, by heart. Sometimes he'll lock himself in his room and think about what dance steps he might pair with the song, in case Mr. Schue asks for his input.

Matt's happiest when he's at Glee. Just like Santana's happiest when she's at Glee. She even admitted it once, and when she glanced at him after she said that he smiled at her, as if to say "I get it. I totally get it."

But it's over now. Glee is over because even though they tried so _damned_ hard and sung their _goddamned_ hearts out, they just couldn't beat whatever sick game Coach Sylvester was playing.

Matt put his head in his hands. He thought about Tina crying, the other day, in Mr. Schue's living room and what she'd said. "Being a part of something special, makes you special." For the better part of a year, Matt had been special too. Special because he was more than a football player, special because he no longer cared what anyone thought about his dancin', singin' self. Special because he had something that made him stand out from his brothers' shadow.

"_In the beginning of the year, I was just another football player."_


	2. Tina: Former Stutterer

**AN: Thank you all for reviewing and adding the story to our alerts! I really appreciate the love :)**

**Sorry this update took me longer - work hasn't allowed me much free time to write. Hopefully, the updates will start coming faster. Without further ado, here's Tina! She's one of my personal favorites, so I hope I did her justice. Please keep reviewin'!  
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Tina hung up the gold dress from Regionals in the back of her closet, sighing. She was making a half-hearted attempt to clean her room (and the rest of her house) before her parents' return from whatever far-flung locale their consulting business had taken them to this time.

Artie had just left after 5 hours of doing nothing but watching _Firefly_. They'd watched episode after episode in silence, her head in his lap while he stroked her hair. Neither had really felt like talking. Tina had put off acknowledging that Glee club was over for a week now, but tomorrow they'd be singing for Mr. Schue, and she knew she needed to accept that they'd be singing together for the last time and that Glee would really and truly be done.

Tina wandered over to the other side of her room to her desk. She picked up her copy of the CD that Rachel had burned for everyone and popped it into her CD player – which was part of her very expensive, very elaborate sound system she'd gotten as a present from her parents for the straight-As she'd gotten on her report card last year. It was about the only time her parents ever really paid any attention to her – report card time – well, that and giving her a lengthy list of dos and don'ts. And if she got As in her academic life, they'd assume she must be doing A-OK everywhere else.

Tina sang along, belting out the words "If you wanted the moon, I would try and get a start, but I would rather you let me give my heart…to sir, with love…" at the top of her lungs, her eyes brimming with tears.

Tomorrow, they'd sing one last time, and then that would be that. The day after tomorrow, life would go back to the way it was before Glee. Santana would go back to pretending Tina didn't exist, Puck would go back to looking at her as though she was from a different universe altogether, Quinn might even go back to being a Cheerio. However tenuous their bond, they still had one because of Glee, and the day after tomorrow that would all vanish, and Tina would go back to being part of the wallpaper at McKinley. Hell, they might even un-friend her on Facebook and then not even the Internet could attest that they ever had anything in common.

Tina balled the black dress she was holding in her hand and hurled it across the room at her hamper in frustration. It was hardly fair. She'd worked _so hard_ this year. Not just at improving her voice – she had to give Rachel credit, the singing exercises that she'd taught them all was really making Tina a stronger singer – but at making herself heard, period.

Before Glee, Tina never talked much. And when she did, her stutter usually stopped any conversation right in its tracks. Which was exactly what she wanted. What she _used_ to want. Being an only child, and growing up without much in the way of a social life – her mom wasn't a fan of playdates when she was younger – Tina had always been withdrawn and quiet. Any of the fantasies Tina had about having friends, being part of a group, or being in love – all of that was drawn from the music she listened to, and the books she read.

But that changed with Glee. She spoke, on the first day of rehearsal, and no one looked at her funny, or called her names, or stopped speaking to her. Rachel was too busy setting up ground rules and angling for solos to even care what came out of Tina's mouth – so long as Tina could sing backup, that was good enough for Rachel Berry. Mercedes and Kurt linked arms with her on the way out of rehearsal chattering with her a mile a minute and never noticed that she couldn't quite keep up. And Artie – Artie just looked her right in the eyes, smiling, and asked her how long she'd been singing. And though she searched his face for signs of disdain, it didn't even register with him that it took her double the amount of time it would take anyone else to answer.

When Puck, and Quinn and the others joined, Tina braced herself for ridicule. But even though Santana would roll her eyes and gesture for her to hurry up when she tried to speak, and even though Puck would ask her sarcastically if she'd ever been taught in kindergarten to string together a full sentence, when they were singing together, none of that mattered. Tina's stutter would go away, Puck's hard façade would melt away and they were…a group.

Slowly, over time, Tina forgot to stutter. She'd raise her hand and throw out song ideas with the rest of them, pronouncing every syllable clearly. Tina was shocked that no one called her out on it, frankly. And that made her hope…that made her hope that they all saw her as more than her stutter. The stutter that had stopped everyone else from saying more than a few words to her and getting to know her – it hadn't stopped these people. And if they were determined to have her be a part of their group, stutter or no, she didn't want to lie to them anymore.

Coming clean to Artie wasn't easy – the fallout from that confession was probably the most hellish week of her life. It almost sent her back to her stutter – her security blanket. But they eventually kissed and made up, and everyone else gradually found out, too. No one even cared. Kurt and Mercedes still chatted a mile a minute in her ear, Rachel still angled for solos, and the only comment Puck made was "Congratulations. You can talk like a human being."

Life went on – there were songs to sing, dances to choreograph, and rehearsals to slack off in. But what now – now that Glee was over?

The buzzing of her cellphone interrupted Tina's train of thought. She picked up her phone and saw that Mercedes had texted her.

_T – sleepover Friday after last day of school? Kurt and Quinn are coming. Bring your nail polish! _

Tina grinned, and typed a quick affirmative response. She had plans to hang out with Artie on Saturday, and plans for a sleepover the night before…and she'd promised Rachel that she'd help her film her audition tape for Juilliard, even though they had 2 more years before college applications – but that was Rachel for you.

So, maybe life wouldn't be so different after all. Maybe she'd still have all of her friends. Hell, maybe she'd even still go to dance class with Mike. And maybe Brittany would still go halfsies on a cafeteria cookie with her. Maybe she'd even go so far as to wave at Puck in the hall.

Either way, she'd probably still keep on singing too.

_I had a stutter. _


	3. Mercedes: Closeted Diva

**AN: Aw shucks, you reviewers are too kind! Thanks for giving my lil' story a chance. **

**Next up, Mercedes! She wasn't the easiest to write, but I hope you enjoy her story! Reviews are love :)  
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Mercedes stood in front of her full-length mirror, hairbrush in hand. She'd die if anyone else found out about this nightly habit of hers…but then again, she doubted anyone would. She didn't put it all up on the Internet for all to mock, like Rachel. Mercedes was helluva lot smarter than that.

Mercedes closed her eyes, and pictured all of her Glee-clubbers cheering her on, just like it was yesterday.

"_And…I am telling you…I'm not going. You're the best man I'll ever know, there's no way I can ever go…" _

"Mercedes, honey. Keep it down! You're going to bust out everyone's ear drums – we're trying to watch TV down here. Have you even finished all your homework?" Mercedes heard her mother holler from the den.

Mercedes sighed, and ran her brush through her hair a few times before setting it back down on her table. She flopped on her bed, putting on the headphones to her iPod and hit "play."

So much for _ever_ getting to sing her song – her showstopper ballad that was going to blow all of the competition away. She'd lost her chance at Sectionals, and it had never even come up for Regionals. But Mercedes had been so sure that they would at least _place_, giving her the chance to badger Mr. Schue about letting her sing it for Sectionals next year.

But they hadn't placed, and Mercedes was never going to get her chance at the spotlight now. She was relegated back to singing in her room with the door closed, not even being able to belt the notes as loud as she wanted, as loud as she knew she could, without her parents yelling at her to pipe down.

Before Glee, Mercedes was nobody to anybody at McKinley. She was the very definition of a misfit – too colorful clothing, too big jewelry, too loud voice. She didn't fit in, and no one wanted to be friends with a sometimes sarcastic, black girl that spoke her mind, and frankly, she didn't need to be friends with the airheads and bimbos of McKinley to know she was better than all of them. And she didn't care if she let them know it once in awhile – loudly and sassily. So what if she got slushied for her efforts? Those things stung like a bitch, but Mercedes wasn't going to let any stick-skinny Cheerio or an icy beverage put her in a corner.

And forget boys – no guy wanted to be seen with the big girl. No, boys wanted skinny blonde Barbie doll-types with waists they could circle with one arm. Mercedes was well-aware of how the ecosystem of high school worked, and she was a bottom-feeder.

None of this really mattered though (even if, admittedly, she _would_ get lonely every so often). Because Mercedes Jones was bigger than McKinley, bigger than Lima. Hell, she was bigger than Ohio. Even if only in her mind, and in the confines of her room.

When Mercedes closed her eyes and pictured the roaring crowds, stardom felt attainable. In more ways than she'd care to admit, she was like Rachel Berry – constantly dreaming, and reaching, and wishing for fame. She was a bit more of a team-player, and she didn't have the oh-so-grating whiny tinge to her voice that Rachel did. But Mercedes, just like Rachel, came alive when the spotlight was on her, singing, no – belting every note as if her life depended on it.

Mercedes was harsh on Rachel the first few months of Glee – but she quickly softened when she realized that there was a lot of herself in Rachel. They had the same hungry look in their eyes, the same self-satisfied smile after hitting that high note. Understanding Rachel, understanding what was at the root of her "take no prisoners" attitude made Mercedes like her a whole lot more. And frankly, taught her to keep her own diva-like tendencies under control. Because Glee Club _really_ doesn't need two Rachel Berrys.

Her parents would constantly tell her to pull her head out of the clouds. They'd say fame happens to one in a million people, and the chances of it being Mercedes Jones from Lima, Ohio was slim to none. They would remind her that they had worked too hard, fought too hard to earn people's respect to let her sit around daydreaming about nothing. Mercedes and her brother were supposed to get good grades in high school, go to a good college, get a decent, respectable 9-to-5 job, and be model citizens. Her parents weren't about to watch her piss all that away just so she could wait tables in Hollywood while praying for her big break.

If she was being realistic, Mercedes knew that her parents were probably right. But two times a week, Mercedes got to not care about what her parents thought. Two times a week, Mercedes got to throw all their cautionary tales of friends' daughters who had run off to New York City or Hollywood and ended up living in sin and getting pregnant out the window. Two times a week, Mercedes got to just _sing_.

Not anymore. Glee Club was over, which meant no more stage, no more lights, no more action. Rachel had tearily voiced the idea of having singing sessions at her house – but let's face it, only the original five Glee-clubbers would ever be caught dead at Rachel's house – and maybe Quinn if Mercedes cajoled hard enough. They'd be an incomplete group again, struggling to find more people to round them out. It would be like starting over from scratch, and Mercedes couldn't bear the thought of that.

Mercedes sighed, stopped the music on her iPod, and hoisted herself off the bed. She walked over to her desk, sat down and flipped open her Biology textbook. But somewhere between reading about chlorophyll and stamen, Mercedes gives up.

She starts humming, just a little, under her breath. _"Dun, dun, dun, dun…"_ Mercedes sings the first line, quietly, under her breath. _"Just a small town girl…livin' in a lonely world…"_ Opening her mouth a little wider, Mercedes lets her voice get just a little louder. _"She took the midnight train, goin' an-y-where…"_

Mercedes pushes her chair back, and leaps up, pumping her fist in the air. She belts, letting her full voice take over. _"Just a city boy…born and raised in South Detroi-oi-t. He took the midnight train goin' anywhere."_

Mercedes spins around and grabs her trusty hairbrush. Skipping past the rest of the song, she launches straight into her favorite part. _"DON'T STOP, BELI-EE-VIN', HOLD ON TO THAT FEE-E-E-LIN' –_

"Mercedes Jones! What did I say about volume?" Mercedes stops mid-high note at the sound of her mother's demanding voice.

"Sorry, Mama. But you just can't hold a force like me back. I _can't_ sing under my breath! I physically can't. I don't know how." Mercedes smiled sheepishly at the sight of her mother's crossed arms. She feels the tiniest pangs of guilt, but the pure adrenaline rush she gets from singing far outweighs it.

Her mom just rolls her eyes, and throws her arms up in exasperation. "Well, your Dad and I are going to need earplugs for Friday when all your friends stay over, aren't we? I guess we should consider ourselves warned."

Mercedes grins at her mom and shuts the door. She walks over to her closet, and slips on the black heels from Regionals. Mercedes turns to face her mirror again, hairbrush perfectly poised. _"Hold on to that fee-e-li-in'…Street light, peo-p-uh-uh-uhle! Don't. Stop."_

_I was a closeted diva._


	4. Quinn: From Cheerio to Glee Clubber

_AN: Many apologies for taking so long with this next chapter! I've been insanely busy this summer. Aren't summers meant for relaxing...and writing fanfic? :P  
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_I'm pretty accustomed to writing Tina and Artie (and even Finn or Kurt), but Quinn is new to me. I hope I did her justice! I find her a really interesting character. This one is also set post-To Sir with Love - a little different from the previous ones. Anyway, enough of my rambling - just enjoy! And go ahead and hit that review button if you like it :)_

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Quinn fingered the little pink onesie that she hadn't been able to resist buying, then placed it into the box she was putting together for Beth. Shelby had asked her if she wanted to put together something for Beth – so that Beth could have a glimpse into what her birth mother was like when she was older.

Quinn had rejected the offer flat out at first, preferring to make a clean break. She had made up her mind long ago that she was going to give up her baby for adoption and she was afraid that if she even so much as named the kid, she'd lose her nerve. Puck had insisted on the name Beth anyway, and a small part of Quinn was touched. Puck might be as crass and thick-skulled as they come sometimes – but, on occasion, he surprised her with just how thoughtful he could be.

But Shelby had insisted she at least think about. She told Quinn about how much she regretted having to resort to using Jesse to get the tape of her singing to Rachel, how much she wished that she could have at least left a small impression on Rachel's life when she was younger.

Quinn didn't want any regret left in her life from this experience. She was positive that she wasn't going to regret giving Beth to someone who could take better care of her than Quinn could at this point in her life. But…she wasn't sure that she wanted to be erased from Beth's life entirely, either.

So here she was, putting together a shoe box of stuff. Stuff that would give Beth a clue to who her birth mother was. In addition to the onesie, Quinn added a picture of her and Puck, and a picture of the Glee club at Regionals, just hours before she gave birth. But…what else?

Quinn's eyes roamed over her room, looking for other things to put in the box. She'd been back with her mother for a week now, but her room still felt…foreign to her. It was crazy – this was the house she grew up in. Hell, this was the room she lost her virginity in. But somehow, after everything Quinn had been through this year, the pink dust ruffle on her bed and the yellow gingham curtains felt...childish, and wrong. She was probably going to need to enlist Kurt to help her redecorate this summer. This room belonged to a different Quinn – the B.G. and B.B. Quinn (before Glee, and before baby). Glee, and pregnancy, had changed Quinn irrevocably, and she'd clearly outgrown this room.

Even the rows of gold Cheerio trophies and ribbons felt out of place. They were a reminder of who Quinn was before Glee. Overachieving, type-A, queen bitch Quinn. They were a reminder of every person she'd stepped on to get to the top of that proverbial Cheerios pyramid, without a single thought to their feelings or who they were.

She was top dog before she fell to the bottom of the heap. Funny thing was, she saw so much more, and saw so much clearer at the bottom than she ever did with her vantage point at the top. When she was Head Cheerio, she was too damn busy looking down the length of her nose at anyone she felt was inferior to her, that she never even thought of them as three-dimensional people.

At the beginning of the year, Quinn joined Glee to keep tabs on her boyfriend. But by the end of the year, it was everyone else that she'd learned a lot more about.

She finally saw Artie as the boy in the wheelchair, and not as the boy defined only by the wheelchair. Quinn saw his warmth, laughed at his spot-on witty comebacks, and smiled at the way he would reach for Tina's hand during Glee practice when he thought no one was looking.

She finally saw Tina as more than the sum of her parts – the safety pins, the colored streaks, the dark eye makeup. Quinn saw her as a whole person, struggling to overcome her shyness. She saw the way Tina would take care of everyone in her quiet, unassuming way – cajoling Mercedes to eat and take care of herself, pushing Artie around gently and carefully, even forking over cash to help Quinn pay for her prenatals that time they bumped into each other at the pharmacy and she was short on money.

And Mercedes. Quinn was so glad and grateful that she'd taken her blinders off and gotten a chance to really _see_ Mercedes for who she is. Before Glee, Mercedes was that loud, fat, black girl that you couldn't pay Quinn to hang out with. Now? Now Mercedes had become one of her best and closest friends. She could always count on Mercedes to tell her the truth, and not let her wallow in a pool of self-pity. What would she have done these last few weeks without the fiercely loyal, fiercely protective, Mama Mercedes in her corner?

Quinn reached into a random box of stuff that her parents had packed up after she was kicked out when Finn spilled the beans about her being pregnant. Christ…that felt like forever ago. Quinn shook her head ruefully as she saw what was in the box. She pulled out her Cheerios pom-poms and her Cheerios uniform. She chuckled to herself just a little. _Of course_ the first thing she reached for in her unpacking _would_ be the ugly reminder of her past. She stuffed them back into the box, sealing it back up with determination.

What was it that Mr. Schue had said to her after he found about the Glist? Something about how her life wouldn't go back to exactly as it was before her pregnancy…but that it would be better, and fuller? Quinn never put much stock in the hokey lessons teachers tried to impress upon their students, but she couldn't deny that Mr. Schue was right this time around. If she hadn't joined Glee to keep tabs on Finn, and if she hadn't fallen to the bottom of the social ladder at McKinley, she never would have found so many true friends. Friends that were there for her, no questions asked.

Quinn no longer felt like she had to constantly keep one eye open, watching her back, making sure she wasn't going to get stabbed by some supposed "friend," in an attempt to undermine her and take the top position from her, the way she used to when she was Head Cheerio. Every girl wanted what she had, and if she even let her guard down for a second, they'd swoop in and take it from her.

Now, Quinn could just…be. As much as she missed being a cheerleader, the actual _cheering_ part, that is, not the politics– she'd take real friends like Mercedes, Santana, Brittany, Artie, Kurt, Tina, and hell even _Rachel_, over having to sleep with one eye open again. It was easier to just live when you didn't feel like you had so much to lose.

Quinn's eyes lingered on the box with all her Cheerios stuff in it –the one that she had, just a moment ago, been so determined to keep in the back of her closet. She peeled away the tape again, and pulled out her Cheerios skirt. Standing up, Quinn held the skirt up to her body and glanced at her reflection in the mirror.

OK, so she wasn't quite back to her pre-pregnancy figure. Yet. She could work this summer though – get back to her routine of running and weight-training. She _could_ fit into the skirt again…she _could_ be a cheerleader again…right? As much as Quinn loved her new life, and as much as she was looking forward to getting back to Glee next year – thank goodness they'd been granted a stay of execution for another year – she couldn't quite repress her desire to be a Cheerio again. She couldn't deny that she wanted to jump and kick as high as she could, to do a series of cartwheels and handsprings the length of the football field. It was an adrenaline rush, and Quinn missed it.

Maybe she could do both. Kurt did – and his ego wasn't any bigger than it was before he joined the Cheerios. Maybe Coach Sylvester would let her back on. She could be Cheerio Quinn _and_ Glee Club Quinn. Just so long as she didn't revert back to Captain-of-the-Cheerios-Queen-Bitch Quinn.

Quinn smiled to herself. Mercedes would never take any shit from her. And Mercedes would cut off Quinn's high ponytail before you could even say "Go Titans!" if there was ever any hint that Quinn was reverting to her former self.

Quinn carefully dusted off her Cheerios uniform, and hung it up next to her gold Regionals dress. She then took her pom-poms and crammed them into the shoebox for Beth. On top of her pom-poms, she placed the last item. A CD, with her singing "It's a Man's Man's Man's World" that Artie had helped her record. Quinn wanted Beth to know that she loved both – cheerleading _and_ singing. And that they didn't have to be mutually exclusive.

There was a lot to look forward to – next year's Quinn would be _way _better than last year's Head Cheerio Quinn.

_"I used to be Captain of the Cheerios." _


	5. Mike: Undercover Pop and Locker

_AN: Aaaaand...here's Mike's story! I really enjoyed writing this one. And I hope you enjoy reading it!_

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Mike hit "play" on his stereo, turning the volume way down so as to not wake his parents. The soundtrack for the first "Step Up" movie came through the speakers, and Mike closed his eyes, feeling every pulse, every note in his muscles. He moved as if from memory, sliding his feet across his hardwood floor, using his arms and hands to echo every beat.

He let his thoughts drift as he moved seamlessly around his room. Mike thought back to the happiest day of his life (so far, anyway). He could pin it down to an exact moment.

It was the moment that Mercedes, bless her loudmouth interfering ways, noticed him doing finger waves and finger-tutting along to Mr. Schue's white-boy rapping. She'd interrupted Mr. Schue loudly, proclaiming Mike the better dancer – even though the only body part he was using was his fingers. She'd tugged Mike to his feet and demanded he kick Mr. Schue's ass at dancing. And for the first time outside the comfort of his own room – Mike danced.

Mike danced the way he'd always dreamed of dancing – for an audience of cheering people, not just for the action figures lining his bookshelf. Mike danced the style he'd always wanted to dance in public – his own smooth, fluid interpretation of pop-and-locking, spinning on his feet and head and back like he'd seen all the b-boys do in YouTube videos.

Mike never danced outside of his room because it _definitely_ wasn't cool for a guy like Mike – a jock, a guy fairly high up on the social ladder at McKinley – to dance the way he did, or really to dance at all. The only kind of dancing acceptable for a guy like Mike was to sway back and forth awkwardly at school dances, for the sole purpose of trying to cop a feel of the hot girl in his arms. Dancing for any other reason at all – well, you'd be mocked mercilessly and labeled "Gay with a capital G."

But that wasn't the only reason Mike never danced outside his room. More than calling unwanted attention to himself at McKinley, he was afraid of disappointing his parents.

Ever since he was a kid, his parents had admonished him for never being able to keep his feet or hands still. The dinner table would shake from his jiggling knee; his mother would hold both his hands in public to keep him from tapping a rhythm out on anything he could find. His parents, immigrants trying to make their way in America and blend in as best as they could, were constantly exasperated at the lack of decorum from their son.

His parents just thought that he had extra pent-up energy, and encouraged him to dispense of it by participating in sports – football, baseball – healthy American pastimes that could _only_ help their son fit in with his American peers. If Mike ever told them that his extra pent-up energy was the result of his desire to bust loose and _dance_ – they'd look down sadly, remind him of just how hard they had worked to come to America, and how dancing was a waste of time. According to his parents, if it wasn't going to help him get to Yale or Harvard or Princeton (the only 3 colleges worth attending), then it was automatically a waste of time.

Football would look good on his college applications, right next to his straight-As, and his volunteer work at the local soup kitchen. Dancing – dancing was a frivolity. And until Glee, Mike hadn't been able to find a way to justify dancing to his parents. When he first joined Glee and had to explain why he was taking on even more extra-curriculars, he'd fought hard, claiming that Glee – something musical and artsy – could only make him look even more well-rounded to the admissions people at Harvard, Yale and Princeton.

Mike hadn't really tried pushing his luck with his parents before. As much as he resented it, deep down, Mike understood the responsibility on his lanky shoulders. Even though his father worked as a doctor, he would get patients every so often who wouldn't trust him to give them a proper diagnosis because of his accented English. And every now and again, his parents would get mistaken for the owners of the local Laundromat, or the local Chinese take-out place. Deep down, Mike understood that his parents felt that if they could produce and mold a bona fide American son, then they would finally have earned their citizenship too.

But Glee was worth fighting for. Glee was worth pushing his luck with his parents. Mike had lingered a little longer than any normal person would outside of Ballet Club a few times. And once, out of sheer desperation to find _someplace_ he could dance, he'd almost pushed open the door and joined Ballet Club, even though it was about as far from his style as you could get. Hearing Rachel Berry's maddening voice boss everyone around from behind the door sealed Mike's decision to walk away.

It was pure irony that only a few weeks after that, he ended up in Glee Club with one Miss. Rachel Berry.

Mike could kiss Coach Tanaka square on the lips for making the football team learn "Single Ladies," and for basically paving the way for Mike to join Glee. Singing and dancing on a stage – whether for an audience, or for nobody but Mr. Schue – Mike felt he was home.

In Glee, being yourself _was _cool. And Mike, just being Mike, was accepted with open arms by these people that, frankly, didn't give a shit what other people thought of them. They just did what they loved, and Mike was happy to be one of them, even if it made him a freak.

Mike had used Glee as an excuse to go to dance classes, persuading his parents that if he took classes, he'd get better and then Glee could win at Regionals and maybe even at Nationals. And a winning Glee Club would look even better than just a Glee Club on his college applications.

But it had all been for nothing. They hadn't won at Regionals. Glee Club was over. And now Mike was back at square one, with no reason to give his parents for continuing to "waste time" on dance. Even though they had dutifully shown up at all of his Glee Club performances, just like they did to all of his football games, he knew they wouldn't understand if he wanted to keep taking dance classes. Especially since next year, he'd be a junior, and one year closer to applying for college.

Maybe he'd join Ballet Club. Now that he'd spent a year with Rachel in Glee – he'd learned that she wasn't _always_ so bad. The year's events, and her friendships with the Glee-clubbers, had mellowed her. He could find a way to justify Ballet Club to his parents – and he'd handle Karofsky and his band of jerks just _fine_. Mike might be skinny and not at all scary-looking, but he was deceptively strong.

Mike refused to let anyone ever make him feel too ashamed to dance, or make him feel like it was a waste of time, again. If anything, that's what Glee taught him – not how to sing better or dance better – but that you can't hide from who you are, and that it's worth fighting for what you love.

Hell, maybe Mike would even take some initiative, and start his own dance club. He wouldn't need funding from Figgins, if they just did it for fun and didn't compete. All he would need is a boom box and some willing bodies. And if Glee Club was really going to be over, then he had an inkling just where he could drum up some members.

"_I was afraid to dance outside of my room." _


	6. Santana: The Less Bitchy Cheerio

**AN: Sorry this update has take so long too! Sadly, my summer hasn't had all that much free time for fic-writing. Don't worry, I'll definitely keep this story going. The breaks between chapters might just be a bit longer than I'd like. **

**Also - I'm participating in the ArTina Ficathon, organized by the uber-talented troubadette, so I'll be working on that too. I've got a great prompt, so I hope you guys will put me on your author alert so you can read that one when I finish it. **

**Without further ado - Miss Santana Lopez, HBIC! **

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Santana stared at her computer screen moodily. _What the hell did I do to get __this__ dubious honor?_

A bright pink Evite, covered in blinking, shimmering gold stars stared back at her. The words "You are cordially invited to a Berry Karaoke Extravaganza!" screamed back at her in bright yellow lettering. It frankly hurt Santana's eyes to even look at it for too long, and she could only imagine that Berry chick's all-too-peppy, sing-songy voice chirping those words.

Santana skimmed the rest of Rachel's mumbo-jumbo about the party being the perfect opportunity to combine Sectionals prep with wholesome fun and rolled her eyes skyward, cursing her momentary weakness at what she had _thought_ was Glee's last meeting – when they sang "To Sir, With Love" for Mr. Schue as a last hurrah. _Why, oh why did I have to open my big mouth and say that stupid sappy thing about not hating everyone?_

One sentence – _one _sentence, and now all those freaks in Glee felt absolutely free to invite her to their get-togethers. Santana had better things to do than go to some Kumbaya sing-a-long. She had to train for cheer camp, she had parties thrown by popular kids with pilfered booze to go to, she had cute boys to do. _Fuck_, she'd rather sit and watch paint dry than be seen at Berry's house.

She minimized the Evite and reluctantly opened the next email in her inbox, simply titled "Glee" from Tina. _What fresh hell would this be?_ There was nothing in the body of the email, only an attachment. Santana double-clicked on the little paper clip icon, and a picture popped open. A picture of the whole Glee club at Regionals, arms slung around each other, right before they went on stage. Santana couldn't help but smile, just a little. There she was, grinning widely, one arm tightly wrapped around Brittany's waist, the other slung over Kurt's shoulders. Brittany's arm was around her too, the other hand making bunny ears over Rachel's head. Santana snickered. Berry was going to bust a nut when she saw that.

Santana glanced over her shoulder at the picture of the Cheerios that she had framed on her bedside table. All 20 of them in one line, hands uniformly on their hips, skirts perfectly ironed, frozen smiles all the same. Plastic smiles.

She glanced back at the Glee picture on the screen – Mike's half-closed eyes, Artie's one hand grasping Tina's hand, the other making a "rock out" sign, Puck's smug grin, Finn's goofy one. It was a kind of blurry, imperfect picture. But Santana couldn't deny that they all looked….happy.

Santana chewed on her bottom lip. Deep down, she had to admit that it wasn't a moment of weakness that made her say that she didn't hate the Glee kids anymore. She had to admit that it was the truth – as unpopular as it would make her if it became common knowledge.

She couldn't, just _couldn't_ let it become known that she actually enjoyed the company of the Glee kids, that she actually _preferred_ Glee rehearsal to Cheerios practice. She wanted to pee her pants from pure fear less in Glee rehearsal – that was for sure. But…to be honest, she preferred Glee because she preferred singing. And because everyone at Glee was…genuine. Weird, maybe. Annoying, definitely (especially Berry). But, genuine. And unique. Which was more than she could say for those lemming Cheerios.

Santana couldn't quite pinpoint when it was that her opinion of the Glee kids started to change. But she couldn't deny that she was…well, less _bitchy_ to them now. She was at the very least indifferent, if not actually nice to them. Santana would kill anyone who dared try insinuate that she was actually _friends_ with those freaks, though. _As if._ All she did was try to make their lives a little less miserable…if only so she wouldn't have to hear them whine about it in Glee rehearsal.

Like…like that time when she saw some nameless freshman jock, slushie in hand, making a beeline for Tina. So Santana grabbed him by the shirt, pressed him up against the lockers and kissed him silly. S, she took his slushie from him as a "thank you" for cementing his reputation as a stud in school (it was common knowledge that if you made out with a hot upperclass chick, you were automatically cool for the next four years). She did it so she wouldn't have to endure Tina's super-annoying, totally-lame sad face in rehearsal, right? Right?

And the time she shoved another Cheerio up against the bleachers for daring to even say that Mercedes was fatter than the rest of the team put together and clearly didn't belong. That wasn't a personal thing. It wasn't as if Santana actually cared about Mercedes's feelings. Mercedes was a Cheerio, and they were a team. You don't make fun of your teammate, period. That's all there was to that, right? Right?

Santana couldn't quite shut out the little voice in her head that was saying_ "All this justifying is starting to feel a little…fake." _

_What if…what if I actually __like__ these losers?_

Santana knew that she'd hit rock bottom though, when she defended _Berry_ of all people. She was getting all hot and heavy with Todd, the totally smokin' Junior basketball player last month when, in the midst of swapping spit, he'd paused to comment on how she had the best ass at school (well, _duh_), and that she shouldn't waste her pretty on Glee. He followed that with some snide remark about her being careful not to let "that ugly, scary Jew freak" rub off on her.

Santana had actually taken the time to climb off of Todd and say "Her name is Rachel. And she's not all that bad." Santana could have sworn that the world was about to end or that aliens had taken over her body, because she pretty much doesn't stop making out for anything or anyone…much less someone she absolutely did not care about. Right?

Santana sighed and begrudgingly re-opened Rachel's Evite. In the "Attending" section, she saw listed: Finn, Mercedes, Artie, Tina, Kurt, Mike, Matt, Quinn, Puck…and Brittany.

_What the fuck?_

Santana was the last holdout – the last one to respond. _Puck_ was fucking going. This was so _not _his scene. And _Brittany_…whom she was pretty sure never made a decision without consulting her.

But…if Brittany was going. And Puck was going…then it couldn't be so bad, right? Santana's finger hovered over the "Accept" button. Karaoke _did_ sound like fun. And Tina had written a note saying that she'd bring home-baked cookies. Tina's cookies were the best cookies Santana had ever had – and she had a month before cheer camp to get into shape, one or two cookies wouldn't kill her. And Artie had written a note offering to bring his PS3 and Rock Band. Santana loved Rock Band. And with this crowd, she was sure she could bully them into letting her sing lead.

Santana clicked "Accept" decisively. Who the hell was she kidding? She loved Glee. The singing, the dancing, Mr. Schue's ridiculous assignments, the freaks, all of it.

But if anyone asked her if she hung out with the loser Glee kids over summer, she'd deny it to her grave.

_I hated everyone in this club. _


End file.
